


My Cursed Immortal

by TheAngelofFate



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Alive!Hector AU, Ernesto is an actual decent person, Ernesto is an actual supportive friend to Hector, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, He tries not to care for Miguels safety, Hector can not catch a break, Hector loves his boy, Hurt/Comfort, but he eventually cares because Miguel is a ray of sunshine in his life, even though he doesnt know Miguel is family, i dont know how to tag this story honestly, immortal au, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:55:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25792456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAngelofFate/pseuds/TheAngelofFate
Summary: When Hector made the decision to go home to Imelda and Coco, he left with a feeling of guilt in his chest and a sad wave from Ernesto. He knew he made the right choice, could feel it in his heart as he felt the sun against his back and the wind in his face.Or an AU where Ernesto didn't poison Hector, but Fate still ended up making Hector suffer in the end.
Relationships: Ernesto De La Cruz & Héctor Rivera, Héctor Rivera & Miguel Rivera, Héctor Rivera/Imelda Rivera, Mamá Coco & Héctor Rivera
Comments: 18
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know that I am years too late, around three years late to be posting a Coco fanfic after the movie has been out for so long and the hype around it has dwindled exponentially. But I recently watched the movie, and I mean I sat down and I REALLY watched it, and this idea kinda just hit, I thought about it and at first I wasn't going to write for it, but I felt like I would regret it if I didn't at least let you guys see it, even if it sucks. 
> 
> So here's this random Coco story that I have no idea where it's going. Also I apologize if I make any mistakes involving the speaking, I don't know Spanish, and all the reference I have is google translate. Please feel free to correct me if I get anything wrong.

Héctor had every intend on going home, he even offered Ernesto his songs to sing in his stead as a peace offering, except the one he wrote for Coco, because while he said that his Nesto could hate him if he wanted, in the back of his mind, he didn't want to lose his childhood best friend, he couldn't just walk away from Ernesto, after all the years of friendship they had together. So he left him his song book, and even gave Ernesto his precious guitar, the very one Imelda gave him. And left, Ernesto walked him to the train station, waved him goodbye with a sad smile on his face and went back home to Santa Cecilia.

His heart soured when the train finally stopped hours later, the sun rose high in the sky, blinding him, it's ray from the early morning heat burning his cheeks, as if the warm ball of light in the sky was warming him up, giving him a blessing, a second chance to be there for his family, for his Imelda and his Coco. Héctor grinned, the sound of the train' whistle matched his own loud _grito_ as he ran down the steps, past the streets he knew so well from his childhood, friends and citizens that knew him, called out and waved to him, and he returned their friendly gestures as he practically slid to a stop at the entrance to his and Imelda's home. 

The sun burned his back as a gust of hot wind pressed against him, as if pushing him forward, giving him a blessing to go ahead, seize his moment.

Throwing the door open, the names of his daughter and beloved wife dying on his lips when he caught the sight of his home. The outside remained intact, nothing changed, nothing disturbed. But the inside? Everything was gone, photos from his and Imelda's wedding, the day she gave him his guitar, the day they first sang together, the day Coco was born. Most of the furniture they had was no where in sight, the kitchen was bare. There was just nothing, nothing left.

A cold sinking dread filled him, " _No…_ " He whispered, his veins felt like ice as he shivered against the hot wind still pressing against his back, "No, no, no… _Imelda_!" He ran around the home, ran outback, " _Mi amor_? I-I'm back! I know it took a while, and I'm sorry but I'm h-here!" But she wasn't out there like he expected her to be, his heart continued to plummet as the realization started setting in, but he shook himself. No, no they were here, he just had to look, he had to keep looking. 

Running back inside he threw the door open to his daughter's room and found it bare as well. A lump formed in his throat, but he pushed that down too, as he spoke. "Coco! _Mija_? You're _Papá_ is here! Back, like I said I would be!" But unlike the other times, where his daughter would let out a joyous yelp upon his return.

This time there was no answer, no sound of running feet, no shout of _"Papá!"_ as she jumped into his waiting arms.

Nothing…

Nothing but the stillness of his once beautiful home, containing the two most precious people in his life.

But— Maybe they were simply playing a game? Yes, that had to be it, right? This was simply Imelda's way of getting back at him for leaving, they were simply hiding somewhere, with all their stuff packed in a shed somewhere. His dear love always did have a flair for the dramatics, always going above and beyond to prove her point, no matter how harsh it was. "O-Okay, _mi querido!_ You got me, I-I won't ever leave again… Just _por favor, sal!"_ The realization seemed to crash into him then, leaving him breathless and falling to his knees.

" _Señor_?" A voice behind him said, causing him to wipe around and see Ernesto's father standing there, with a look of confusion on his face. "Ah! Héctor, _mi hijo!_ So you are home, _¡Magnífico!_ " Señor La Cruz then stopped and realized where he was and the same realization that was creeping up into Héctor's heart, spread a crossed his face. The old man sighed, "Oh no, Héctor _, lo siento_."

Héctor was on his feet and running to the man he saw as a second father and grasped his elbows, "Please… _Por favor, señor... mi esposa, mi hija_?" Desperately he clung to the man, heart aching, eyes burning.

_ Señor _ La Cruz grasped his arms, to keep the younger man from falling, " _Lo siento mucho, Héctor..._ They've been gone for months now. Left at night, no one knows where."

The bottom of Héctor's stomach dropped, bile rose to his throat at the knowledge, at the realization that he had been too late, he had chosen to go home months to late and now, they were gone. Tears cascaded down his cheeks, heart aching, he collapsed to the ground in a heap of despair while _Señor_ La Cruz went with him, patting his back gently, like Héctor remembered he'd done as a child when his father had been to drunk to do so. Through cries and tears dripping down his chin, Héctor could do nothing else but sing the song he wrote for Coco, praying that would be enough to bring them both back.

" _Aunque, tengo que decir adios…"_ His throat burned, it pained him to sing, threatening to break any moment, but he did anyway, regardless if he didn't want too, he did anyway. _"_ Remember me, don't let it make you cry—" The dam shattered than and he cried, cried for the life he foolishly left behind, cried for his beloved wife and daughter for making them feel abandoned, and now they were gone.

And Héctor was alone.

It killed him, his heart felt like it was breaking, his lungs could barely receive any air, knowing that they were gone, his dear _mi esposa, mi hija_ were just… gone, had gotten done with waiting for him to return, for him to settle down. And just left of their own will, and would never return even if he begged them. And it hurt, the pain he felt broke what was left of his heart and pierced his veins, tore through his throat where he left out an ungodly scream, pushing away from _Señor_ La Cruz, fleeing the house he once held so dear to him.

His legs carried him down streets and alleyways, his footsteps echoed on the cobblestone, his frantic, broken breathing filled the air. And then abruptly, he stopped. He stopped in front of and old broken down, train track that stood a few feet from the ground,

His gaze was fixed on the tower above the structure. Then a new emotion enveloped his heart, it mixed in with the hurt he felt, tangled within the heartbreak. If he was alone, then what was the point in staying? What was the point in doing so without them in his life? They had given his life meaning, purpose, he loved them so much, with his entire heart and soul. If they were gone, if they left because he made them feel abandoned and alone, then why should he even attempt to try?

So there was no fear in his heart as he climbed it, there was nothing but a numbness that engulfed his body as he stood there arms stretched out to balance himself, then if adding insult to injury the sky turned dark, where moments before it had been sunny and welcoming. It was now cold and stormy. Which hardly ever happened in Santa Cecilia, rain wasn't exactly uncommon, but in the last letter he received from Coco, they just had their season of rain. This was unexpected, it was as if the heavens were rubbing salt in the wounds, laughing at his failure as a father and a husband.

_ Nada más me importa _

He didn't care anymore.

The storm clouds swirled around him, thunder boomed loudly, while lightning cracked in the sky, but Héctor blocked it out, closing his eyes, "Imelda, _mi amor_ … Coco, _mi querida hija…_ I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Without a shred of hesitation or fear, he jumped.

He waited for death, welcomed it, but when he hit the ground, when he woke up not seconds later, he found himself _not dead_. His neck ached from where he landed on a piece of metal railing, he was breathing, his heart was beating.

He was still alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a little backstory, when I first started writing for this story, I was originally going to just have it be a oneshot of Ernesto not killing Hector, and him going back home to Imelda and Coco. But then I thought, while I was playing the old 2016 game, The Cat Lady and my brain was like "What if Hector was immortal?" and so this story was born. 
> 
> Does it not make sense? Nope, but then I thought if Miguel can live in a normal world where he can take a guitar, become cursed and being able to go to the Land Of The Dead, then why can Hector become immortal? 
> 
> Anywoo, a penny for your thoughts? I know this isn't good and probably a waste of time but feedback is always welcome and appreciated and I will see you all in the next one if this story is enjoyed.


	2. Chapter 2

As a child, he remembered he always feared death. He remembered crawling into his mother's arms and whispering about it. That it was the scariest thing in the world to him, death, and losing people he loved, the thought of himself dying, to a child was incredibly scary. But of course, _of course_ , when he had nothing else to live for, when he _wanted_ to die, the heavens refused him even that.

Over the next few days, Héctor tried everything he could think of to meet death, greet death like an old friend regardless if he never met it before. But nothing worked, nothing. He always woke up not in the Land of the Dead, like he wished. But still breathing in the Land of the Living, he was cursed, he knew. He knew that's what this was, in trying to end it all it was like _Dios_ himself wanted nothing more then for him to stay exactly where he was, heart beating, veins pumping.

But it was just that, he noticed as the days turned into months and the months turned into years. That not only was he cursed to live, but he was also cursed with slow aging. And it made zero sense to him, he could not die but he also was aging slowly? His physical appearance, his facial structure remained a man in his twenties, but slowly, so very slowly, he noticed the subtle small changes.

A wrinkle here, a grey hair there.

Nothing at all compared to what he was actually supposed to look like for any normal man in his 60s. For 42 years had passed by since that day, the day his beloved Imelda and Coco left and where his curse began. Imelda must be in her 70s now, she had been a few years older then him, always the one who was mature and fierce, and he doubted that age had damped that fierceness either, boot in hand ready to smack someone with it.

And Coco— he winced, his heart aching. His daughter must be in her early 40s now, and that added just another notch of guilt into his heart.

He missed out on so much.

He never got to see her grow up, graduate school, never got to walk her down the isle, towards someone she loved just as immensely as Imelda had loved him. She was grown now, had children of her own, possibly with grandchildren for all he knew. The Rivera family was thriving, and possibly successful, while he was left behind, as he should be, knowing what he did to them, the pain he caused them.

The fact that it was _Día de los Muertos_ made it even worse.

Gulping another glass, trying so very hard to drown his sorrows, he plucked absently at the guitar in his hands, sitting in a chair in the small little house he called home far away, miles away from the bustling lives of everyone else in Santa Cecilia. The guitar was a gift from Ernesto's mother, after his failed attempt of ending his life, he returned to the house had shared with Imelda weeks afterwards, where Señora La Cruz was waiting along with her husband, squeezing him tightly, and giving him a guitar, and a hot meal and some _el dinero_.

He treasured it.

He always treasured her kindness, it was more then he ever deserved.

When he played it, he could lose himself, it made him forget the pain he felt. He could go to simpilar times, where his family were still there and still loved him with all their hearts. But reality always came back and he was left with this terrible ache, and it never went away.

Héctor sighed, opening his eyes and laying the instrument against the wall, but he made no movement to stand, to do anything. That was until he felt something, something that seemed to cut through the despair he felt, that dug it's way past the inner walls of the pain that engulfed his heart and remained there, a small peck of something, other than grief and heartache.

It pulled at him, a needless itching, that seemed to fester the longer he sat there. At first he ignored it, brushing it off that his buzz was wearing off. But minute by minute, it continued to persist. Like a child had grasped ahold of his wrist and was pulling him along. Eventually he grew tired of it, and stood up, hoping that maybe if he walked it off, then this twitching would go away.

Héctor walked down roads and hills, past a river stream, before he heard something that made him freeze. At a distance it was faint, but he heard it. A small cry, a cry that did not belong to an animal, but from a person.

Someone was in trouble.

And despite the hate he had towards himself, one of the best qualities he had, that he himself prided himself on was being a good and kind person. Turning, he rushed forward into the direction of the cry, mind to focused on the task at hand to feel that that tugging had been pulling him in that direction the entire time.

He followed the cries for help to the old train tracks that he had jumped from years ago. Looking up he saw someone that made him stopped him in his tracks, there clinging to the edge, seconds away from falling, was a boy there no older than twelve years old.

The kid let out another cry as the piece of wood the kid held onto started to give way. Something stirred within him, something that he hasn't felt within his heart for the past 40s years.

Running forward he called out, "Hang on, _chamaco!"_ But no sooner did he get underneath the kid, the wood snapped, and the boy fell,Héctor dove forward, arms stretched out and leaped into the air, catching the kid before he hit the ground. The force of the impact made them tumble down a hill, flinging the kid from his arms, as the wind was knocked from his lungs.

He coughed, clinching his chest and abdomen. He laid there in the dirt, as stiff as a board trying to regain control of his breathing. A minute later, Héctor turned his head and saw the kid also laying on the ground, breathing hard, and shaking. The twitching from before returned, and despite his heavy breathing, he stood on unsteady legs and walked over to the boy. "You okay, _chamaco?"_ The kid jerk at the sound of his voice, eyes wide and fearful he scrambled away from him. Héctor immediately held up his hands in defense, "Woah, _fácil!_ It's okay, kid. _Respira_ , just breathe."

Héctor watched the kid take in slow, deep breaths. Then when his breathing looked like it even out, he gently knelt to the ground. The kid looked up at him, eyes still so very scared, tears dripping down his chin. He felt a pang of empathy for the boy, expression relaxed, he smiled gently. "Better, _chamaco?"_ Weakly, the boy nodded, then winced a second later clinching at his leg, letting out several small, dry sobs. Worry engulfed Héctor, he scooted closer, hands hovering over the kid, " _Te duele la pierna?_ "

A nod

Reaching forward, he hesitated, looking at the kid before gently pulling back the fabric. He let out a low hiss when he saw that the kid's leg looked _very_ broken.

_Ay dios mío_ , this wasn't good.

Looking around, frantically, for a moment, unsure of what to do. _He_ couldn't treat it, he had no supplies for thing like that, he had never needed too, for his injuries always healed with an hour or two depending on the severity of it. And there was no way he trusted himself enough to even attempt to fix something that looked that bad. No, he needed to get the kid to a professional. "Alright, kid. I'm gonna take you back to town, and then I'll find your _la familia_ and then—" But he didn't get to finish his sentence, for the boy back away from him, pulling his broken leg free of his grip.

Shaking his head frantically, eyes filled with emotions like pain, bitterness and an aching Héctor recognized all too quickly. "No, Please— _Por favor, no mi familia!_ Please!"

Héctor's eyes widened, very much confused. The kid didn't want to see his family? Why? Surely, they must be sick with worry. That got him thinking of things that he really didn't want to, were they hurting him? Neglecting him? Héctor took another look at the boy, at the mention of his family, he didn't look scared. More so resentful and bitter, perhaps he ran away from home, perhaps he felt alone in a possible huge household, that he felt neglected as any child would his age and ran?

Whatever the reason, if he wanted to get the kid the help he needed Héctor obviously was going to need to semi agree with those terms. Slowly, he gestured his hands in a downward motion, "Okay, _chamaco._ Doctor, but no family, I got it. Okay?"

The kid looked cautious but eventually nodded. It occurred to him then that he hadn't asked for the boy's name, nor had he introduced himself. "I'm Héctor." He held out his hand for the kid to shake, giving him a tilted grin to make the kid laugh, slowly ever so slowly, the boy's much smaller hand grasped his own.

"Miguel."

" _Mucho gusto,_ Miguel. How bout we go get you fixed up, eh?"

Miguel wiped at his tears, sniffling somewhat as Héctor reached forward to lift the kid onto his back. When Miguel surprised him by wrapping his arms around his neck, the motion made Héctor stiffen, as a memory of Coco doing the exact same thing every time she had been upset or sick flooded back to him. He shook himself back to reality and gave the kid a few pats before gather the twelve year old in his arms, bridal style and walking to the nearest town, which happened to only be twenty minutes away by foot.

And while they waited for the doctor to see them, he felt Miguel slump against him. The adrenaline rush the kid had from a near death experience was finally fading away, leaving him tired.

"Héctor?" Miguel said through a yawn, rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah, _chamaco?"_

_"Gracias,_ for saving me."

And with that the Doctor took him, and he was left alone in the waiting room, this would be the perfect time to get in contact with Miguel's family, find them and tell them their kid ran away and nearly died. Because being so close to this kid, being this close to anyway was putting them at such a risk.

If he wasn't careful, he could curse them too. Every rational part of him was telling him to ditch the kid for his own safety.

But then he remembered Miguel's insistence to _not_ go back, the bitter emotion in the boy's eyes, it was clear that whatever his family had done to make him feel that way, it was enough to make him not want to go back.

What would they do to Héctor? Likely blame him for Miguel's accident? The situation looked suspicious already, him being a stranger carrying a kid with a broken leg. He'd be arrested for child abuse, —not that he cared about himself or his safety, but more so the safety and lives of others if he does get arrested.

But that begged the question, what was he supposed to do? What was the best option for the kid and everyone else?

" _Señor?_ " A nurse asked, walking over to him.

"Yes?" He said, standing from the chair.

She seemed to take in his appearance, his clothes and straw hat, and asked "Are you Miguel's family?"

He opened his mouth to say _no_ , he wasn't the boy's family, he just met the kid today, but something… something in his chest made him pause. But then that sensation came back again, making Héctor's hands twitch. The words were out of his mouth before he had time to stop him. "Yes…"

> _Why?_

> _Why did he say that?_

> _What was wrong with him? They weren't family, why?_

And it surprised even him how convincing he sounded when he said that, he shook his head, "Is Miguel alright?" And no sooner did he ask this though, Miguel appeared behind the corner with the Doctor in tow, supported upright by the crutches he now had underneath his arms.

The kid wasted no time in going straight over to Héctor.

"Most of the fracture was done to the knee, but thankfully though, it seems to be minor one." The Doctor looked over his notes on his clip board, hardly paying any attention to either of them, "Still, as a precaution we're going to keep it in a cast to prevent any further damage. Fractures take up to four weeks to heal but if all goes as planned, he can have that off earlier than that." Héctor watched as the Doctor tore out a piece of paper and held it out to him. "Please call this number once the time is up and we will make an appointment remove it."

And with that, the doctor along with the nurse left and walked through the doors towards their other patients. Héctor and Miguel looked at each other at the same exact time, caught off guard by the Doctor's dismissive attitude, before turning around and leaving the building.

After a minute of walking in silence, Miguel broke it, "So, what now?"

The urge to take the kid back home, to get him away from him, was high, because the kid had already spent way too much time with him already. "Any chance you wanna go back home?"

Immediately, Miguel back away from him, one of his crutches skidded against the dirt, nearly making him fall over, if Héctor hadn't reached out and steadied him. "You said that—!"

He gripped the kid's shoulders, "Easy, easy… It was just a suggestion." Miguel relaxed, letting out a huff, before nodding. Héctor gazed at the kid, in disbelief, " _Dios, chamaco._ What could have they have done to you to result _this_? If I were _you_ , I'd move heaven and earth to be with my family again."

Miguel looked hesitant at first the topic looked like it pained the kid to think about, as they continued walking. "They… they wanted me to give up a part of myself that's always been there, they told me that if I went down that road, that I'd be forgotten and left off my family's _ofrenda_ …" That made Héctor's eyes widened, they said such a thing? To a little boy? It was something he couldn't believe but what else could be the case, Miguel didn't seem like he was lying. What could the kid want to do so badly that they were that against?

"What did they… not want you to do?"

"My family… I don't know _why_ but they hate music. But I love it, it's a part of me, it's the only thing that makes me happy. That why I have to find _Ernesto de la Cruz,_ if I can find him and bring him back home, make him apologize for whatever he did then maybe they'll let be a musician like him."

Héctor stopped walking and put a hand on the kid's shoulder. "Wait, what does _Ernesto_ have to do with that?"

Miguel seemed to brighten at his question, his beaming with joy for the first time since they met. "Ernesto de la Cruz is my great grandfather."

It was like all the breath left him with that single sentence. "Wait, what? He's your gr— Nesto is your… _what_?"

Miguel gazed at him with confusion, "Are you okay?"

" _Sí, sí…_ " He closed his eyes and thought a moment on the matter at hand, the kid obviously wasn't go back home, even if Héctor tried, for the kid's own good, even if he dragged the kid back kicking and screaming, Miguel would most likely run away again and resume his persut in finding Ernesto, and likely get into more danger. More danger then just being in close proximity of Héctor. Dangers like wild animals, thieves, predators and drunk men.

So, the only option he had, — even though it goes against everything he's done the past couple decades, staying away from other— was take the kid back where he lived. At least there he can keep an eye on Miguel, keeping him at a distance, while he figured out what the right thing to do was concerning the boy's family. "How bout this, _chamaco_? Since obviously won't go back to your _la familia_ , what do you say... in staying with me?"

  
_I may regret this_

Miguel gazed at him, shocked but smiled wide. "Really?"

He pointed at the kid, face serious, " _Just_ until your leg heals, and then you go back home, _Entender_?"

Miguel nodded; eyes filled with gratitude. " _Gracias_ Héctor."

A warm feeling formed in his chest looking at Miguel's smile, he returned the smile with a lopsided one of his own and ruffled the kid's hair. " _De nada,_ I have to warn you. My place is small and _definitely_ wasn't built for children."

He watched as Miguel held up his good arm, in a salute. "I'll be good, _la promesa_."

With a small chuckle, Héctor placed his hand on the curve of Miguel's back and lead him home. While a single thought played on loop over and over again in his head.

_Why didn't Ernesto ever tell him he had children?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated down in the comments below.


	3. Chapter 3

Miguel's reaction to his home wasn't what Héctor expected at all. He thought the kid would take on look at it and be disgusted. It was big enough for a sofa, and it had all the essentials that one would find in a regular home; Stove top, bathroom, shower, a fridge that held nothing within it's drawers but cold air.

Because not only could he not die, but he also didn't have to eat either. Though he still could eat, he never actually got hungry or thirsty, so therefore there was no need for him to have food in the fridge.

Which is why, he was _really_ glad he had that thought ahead and actually went to the market and actually bought food. Seeing as Miguel since was going to be staying with him for the next four weeks.

Héctor may not need to eat or drink, because of this curse, but Miguel _did_ , the kid need all the things he didn't in order to live. Héctor watched as Miguel looked around his place, held up high but by his crutches while Héctor opened the fridge and filled the drawers and shelf's with some of the food he just purchased. "I warned you, kid _._ It was built specifically only for one person."

But Miguel simply shook his head, "No, I think… well it doesn't look like your described, but I like it."

Héctor narrowed his eyes, suspiciously. "Don't yank my chain, _chamaco._ This place is a _dump_ , you can be honest."

The kid turned to him, "No, really! I mean… living here, by yourself, being able to do what you want without anyone telling you what to do." A bitter smile spread a crossed Miguel's face, as he sat down on the sofa.

"It's also lonely." Héctor blinked, surprised, with himself because he hadn't meant to say that aloud. He turned his gaze to the floor, a feeling of sympathy formed in his chest, as he looked back at the kid. Shaking it off, he clapped his hands and smiled. "Anyway, take a seat. I haven't cooked in a bit, so I hope your fine with _arroz y frijoles..?"_

Miguel nodded, "That's fine, do you have anything to drink?"

Without even looking, Héctor reached into the bag, and tossed the bottle of water.

For the next few minutes, there was silence, as kid ate. It was awkward as it was comforting. Seeing as it has been so long since he'd been in the presence of another human in years. "Arf yf gonfa havf some?" Miguel asked, mouth filled food like the kid hadn't eaten for as long as Héctor hadn't.

"Chew and swallow before you talk, kid."

Miguel blinked sheepishly, took the time to swallow his food before he repeated himself. "Aren't you going to have some?" It had been so very long since he ate, that he had actually forgotten what food tasted like.

Still though, he shook his head. "Nah, you're a growing boy, you need it more than me."

"But your thin. My _abuelita_ said that's not healthy _._ "

Héctor scoffed, with a smile. "Don't let that fool you, I've been like this for a long time."

But when he turned back to Miguel, he noticed that the kid's eyes were transfixed on something off in corner. Following his gaze, Héctor realized it was his guitar Miguel was staring at. Héctor recognized the gleam of desire in the boy's eyes, it was the same joy he had in his eyes at that age when he first heard the beautiful sound a guitar made.

He leaned back into the wall, "You play?"

Miguel jumped, as if he had forgotten Héctor was there, "Yeah— I mean, I _think_ so? Since my family hates music, I watched tapes of Ernesto play, while hiding in my attic."

The entire sentence was such a truthful confession that Héctor didn't know how to respond to the first part. "Ay, so you are self-taught."

Miguel's fingers fidgeted, "Is that… bad?"

Héctor shook his head, "Not at all, I taught myself when I was your age for a time before I was able to find a man that taught me himself."

He remembered that it was hard, learning to play the guitar by himself with no instructor. 

He thought back then that since no one took him seriously that he'd prove them all wrong and teach himself. Then Chich literally grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and said, that if Hèctor was serious enough, that if he had the passion and love for music to play with all his heart, that he'd take him on and teach him out to play.

A sad smile formed on his face, as he remembered, but Miguel was oblivious to his as the kid's eyes lit up, grinning. " _You're_ a musician?"

Héctor smiled sadly, "I use to be... Not so much anymore," He paused, walking over to the instrument and running his fingers over the strings, a faraway look appeared on his face as he spoke more to himself then to Miguel, "I'm not much of anything anymore." He blinked, shaking his head, he turned back to Miguel who looked a little sad.

That same feeling was back again, that same worry he hasn't felt in a long time. "Miguel?"

The kid looked up at him, "O-Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about the guitar I made."

Héctor narrowed his eyes, "You _made_ a guitar, all by yourself?"

Miguel nodded, rather enthusiastically, despite the sad expression in his features. " _Yeah_ , it took me months to find the right parts. I even used nails as tuners." The kid sighed then, looking at them ground. "But… my _abuelita_ smashed it."

Héctor winced, that's the worst thing you can do to a child. Hell, that's the worst thing you can do to a _musician_. Any instrument, to any musician, is a part of them, it's like an extension of themselves. And to a kid, having already been told he had to give up something he obviously loved so much, then to have something he took months to build smashed to pieces.

In a moment like that, the last thing anyone would want to do was to be a part of a family that didn't accept what they loved.

No wonder the kid ran away.

Héctor watched as Miguel's expression once again, turned sad. And never been able to take it when any child cried. He remembered being an emotional wreck whenever Coco cried the very first time he left for his tour with Ernesto. And Héctor with this kid, even though he only met him a few hours ago, felt that same ping with Miguel, so he turned to his guitar, picked it up and held it out for him.

"Play something." He said a smile on his face.

Miguel's eyes darted from Hećtor to the guitar, "Really?"

He grinned, nodding, "Yeah! I wanna see what you got, _chamaco._ You being Ernesto's grandson and all." Gently, placing his instrument in the kid's hands. "Play me something." Miguel took a moment to admire the guitar before, sitting down on the sofa. He carefully placed his hands in the properly placements. Miguel looked like he was about to play and then he looked up at Héctor and froze.

"What is it?"

Miguel flushed in embarrassment, "I just— I've never played for anyone but myself and Dante. And I'm..."

"Nervous?"

"A little?" Miguel gave him a sheepish smile

Héctor chuckled, taking a seat a crossed the kid, "Nothing wrong with that, kid. Every great musician gets nervous. You just gotta loosen up, get those nerves out."

"How?"

Héctor thought for a moment, rubbing a finger a crossed his chin hair. "Well, everyone is different, but what _I_ did was _this_ —" Standing up, deciding to do a demonstration. Hèctor shook his arms, legs, his entire body in rapid distorted motions. "Really, I'd be standing there, a big _bola de nervios_ and I'd just shake out all the fear."

Miguel let out a laugh, at his movements, "That's silly."

" _Oh_ I know, I use to get a fair amount of looks like I was _loco_." The only one who hadn't looked at him that way was Imelda. Héctor leaned forward and gestured the kid to follow him, "So c'mon, stand up and shake out those nerves, _chamaco!"_

The kid did as instructed, standing up, placing the guitar on the side of the sofa, he began to copy Hećtor's movements. " _Bien_! There you go, Miguel! Now give me your best _grito_!"

Miguel stopped, looking confused, "My best _grito_?"

"Yeah! Belt it out, yell at the top of your lungs!" Taking a deep breath he let out his loudest cheer, and grinned down at the kid and the expression on his face, "It helps, trust me. Go on."

The kid took a deep breath through his nose, opened his mouth and let out a low squeak, sounding almost like a dying bird, Hećtor cringed with a pained smile. Miguel tried again and it had the same result. Héctor laughed sheepishly, "Well, you can work on that later. Play something. Anything you want."

Miguel started with one of Ernesto songs. One of the very first songs Héctor had written years ago. It was a low, somber song, one of the few Ernesto rarely performed, seeing as his friend was always one for loud, upbeat numbers instead of the songs that were slow and took their time to capture the audience's attention. Héctor watched Miguel play, a fond smile forming as he watched the kid close his eyes, getting lost in the melody he was playing.

Miguel's movements were fluid as well as stiff, slow but fast. He was no where near perfect, but he had potential, he had talent. And it reminded Héctor of himself way back when he was young and determined. When others told him, music wasn't a popular career, and he laughed in their faces, and played as loudly as he could, performing with his entire heart, showing the world what he could become. And then he met Imelda and with Chich's worlds he suddenly he found himself playing for her too, not just for himself, and then they had Coco, and everything Héctor thought he wanted was turned upside down. When he played with Ernesto in their tour, he realized that when he sang, and played his guitar, he thought of them, his Imelda and Coco, and that's all he wanted. 

What impressed Hèctor the most was Miguel's voice, he was young still, barely even a teenager and yet he was carry such a soft, gentle tune. He wondered how great the kid would be if he sang a faster, more upbeat songs. The ones that Ernesto always enjoyed.

The song ended, and Miguel opened his eyes, looking embarrassed. "H-How was that?"

"You want me to be honest?" Héctor rested his elbows against his knees, Miguel nodded frantically, resting the guitar on the ground. "Your movements are a tad stiff and you need to work on not playing so fast simply cause you're afraid you'll mess up." Most kid's would crack under upon taking criticism, but Miguel surprised him once again, by just nodding his head, eyes filled with anticipation. "But you got talent, _chamaco._ You keep working at it, I can see you being great."

The sheer amount joy on Miguel's face was so infectious, that Héctor could not help but return it. "Really, you mean it?"

He nodded, voice ringing true. "Even better than me, and even _better_ than Ernesto."

Miguel smiled, then handed him back the guitar, "Can _you_ play something?"

Héctor thought about it for a moment, then he looked outside and saw that the sun was setting and decided another day would be better. "Maybe later, kid. It's late and right now you need to rest."

Miguel looked a bit disappointed, but didn't argue, carefully lifting himself up onto the sofa and let out sigh, while Héctor settled on the ground, placing his hat over his face. A few minutes of silence, a movement here, a creak of springs there, then, "Héctor?"

"Yeah? _"_

Miguel hesitated so long that Héctor thought for a moment the kid fell asleep, "Do you think that if I could show my family that music wasn't bad, that they'd accept that part of me?"

Héctor lifted his hat from his face and stared up at the ceiling. This wasn't something he should get himself involved in, what did his thoughts matter? Why did Miguel so badly want his opinion, his advice? Was it because he felt like a fellow musician would understand or was it because the kid really had no confidence and trust in his family?

"I really don't know, kid."

A pause, then a small, hesitant breath. "Would you teach me?"

He really shouldn't get involved, he really _really_ shouldn't, especially when it wasn't even his problem to begin with, but then what was he doing now? Letting Miguel stay with him, encouraging his love of music? He was already deep involved in this whole situation; despite his fear of affecting the kid with his curse, he might as well commit to it.

"Sure."

If he kept the kid at a distance, then…

He could do this, right?

He could make his endless life mean something, by helping this kid, right? He took care of Coco, how hard could Miguel be?

"Wait, _really_?" Miguel's voice crack with pre-pubescent shock.

There was a low thump, where the kid's cast hit the ground, as he jerked upward, almost falling over, causing Héctor to sit up as well, making sure the kid didn't face plant. " _Tómalo con calma_ , kid."

"You will? Really, _really_?"

He may regret this, like he may _really_ regret this, but he nodded into the darkness, "Sure, first thing tomorrow, I'll teach you everything I know while your leg heals."

In the darkness, he heard the kid let out a laugh of disbelief, that him chuckle. "I— _Thank_ _you_ , Hećtor!"

 _"De nada_ , just know it's not gonna be easy. You've got talent, and you know a few chords from _Ernesto_ 's song, but you still have a long way to go."

"I know, I _know_. But I'll be good, I'll listen and work hard! _Prometo, prometo_!"

The air around them was filled to the brim with Miguel's excitement, so much so that even Hećtor was looking forward to tomorrow, which after all these years was a rarity. "Alright, first order from your new teacher is to get some sleep."

Miguel giggle, settling back down against the sofa. "Okay, _buenas noches,_ Hećtor."

"You too, _chamaco."_

Héctor listened then, laying stiff as a board in the dark, as the kid's breathing even out, and a light snorting came from his sofa. Then quietly, he stood up, walked over to his desk, where one leg was shorter than the rest, pulled out the drawer. As gently as he could, he unfold a sheet of paper, took out a pencil. And started writing;

_Dear Ernesto—_

* * *

"Position your thumb here to transition from an E minor to an F minor." Héctor instructed, leaning forward, positioning the boy's fingers correctly so he could play this next string of cords. He had gotten into the rhythm of teaching, giving Miguel a list of instructions.

_Loosen up, kid. You are still too stiff_

_Remember to breath, don't be afraid to lose yourself in the music,_

_You can't just sing, you have to_ perform _, from your whole heart._

Teaching Miguel reminded him of the times he helped Ernesto learn how to play. His friend didn't get it as quickly, especially since Héctor, in the beginning, went about it in the way Chich taught him, instead of the way he chose to play after the man's death. The man was gruff and grouchy, and so were his teaching, always flicking Héctor on the forehead when he said something snarky or when he missed a cord or thought too much and made a mistake.

> _"Enfocar, Héctor! Stop day-dreaming! You're never gonna get anywhere if you don't learn the cords!”_ As the old man gave him a firm smack upside the side,
> 
> Héctor grinned, rubbing his head. _"Ay, but Chich, I'm dreaming of music, doesn't that count?"_
> 
> Chich gave him a narrowed look, glancing out the window where Héctor's gaze was focused on, frowning at his student when he saw young Imelda standing there by the plaza with her parents, _Héctor grinned at him, sheepishly, "Dreaming isn't enough,_ _idiota. If you keep at this, I may just drop you—"_
> 
> Héctor's eyes widened, he shook his head frantically, _"No, Chich, everyone else thinks I'm loco for even dreaming this big, you're the only one who took a chance on me. I need you."_
> 
> _"Then listen…"_ Chich said, looking the young boy in the eyes, expression serious. _"You love music?"_
> 
> _"With all my heart."_ He answered, truthfully.
> 
> _"Then you got to **focus** ,"_
> 
> Héctor nodded, then his eyes downcasted and turned back to the window where Imelda sat, reading a book near the large fountain. _"But… I love her too."_
> 
> Chich rolled his eyes and dropped the guitar in his student's hands and gestured towards the door. _"When that happens, you play for both. Ni uno u otro, **both**. Or you'll end up running yourself salvaje. When you play, you play for yourself yes, but also for someone close. Not for the fame or glory, them. That's when the words your singing mean more."_
> 
> Héctor blinked up at the man, before a genuine smile spread a crossed his face. _"I will, I will. Lo_ _prometo, siempre. Gracias, Chich."_
> 
> _He ended up going on a date with Imelda after that._

He and Miguel worked for the better part of a week, doing non-stop exercises, vocal warms up and at one point, Héctor even quizzed the kid on what he remembered, and what he took to heart.

Then on their seventh day together, while Héctor gently wrapped bandages around the now growing calluses forming on the boy's finger tips, when Miguel spoke up. And asked the question, Héctor knew had been on the kid's mind ever since they started these, "So do you think this'll be enough to convince my family to let me be a musician?"

Héctor let out a sigh, he knew this was coming, he knew, and yet he still hadn't come up with an answer. At least not one the kid was going to like or accept. "I really don't know, Miguel. When I was your age, people told me all the time, how music wasn't a proper career for me. Convincing others, _strangers_ of your dream is one thing, but for _you_ it's different, it's _always_ different when it comes to your _la familia._ Because family always wants what's best for you—"

"Well, they _didn't_!" Miguel argued, face contorted into a look of pained bitterness. "They want me to give up a part of me, over what _they_ want. I didn't even get a _say_ —!"

The last couple of days with Miguel, as he helped the kid, taught him everything he knew about music and playing the guitar, Héctor noticed, with a sudden jolt of realization, that he was quickly, far to quickly, becoming attached to the boy. 

Which _wasn't_ good, because he knew this was only temporarily, so he made the effort to distance himself from Miguel.

For him and the kid's own good, but one moments such as these, where the kid was frustrated or angry or upset, Héctor couldn't help but show the same affection he had once shown to Coco, "Hey, hey. _Tranquilo, lo entiendo."_ He said in a low, soft voice, placing a hand on the kid's shoulder. "I'm not saying I didn't. Just that it'll be a little harder because they're family."

Miguel took a few deep breathes, hands gripped the guitar tightly, before finally relaxing. "Okay now?" He asked, leaning forward so that he was eye level with the boy. When Miguel let out a small sigh followed by a nod, and Héctor responded with a small pat on the back, "Good, now. How about another try on that _grito_?"

Later that night, after they had supper –or to be more precise, when Miguel had supper while Héctor made some excuse skipping out— while they were both settling down, Miguel's voice whispered through the darkness. "Héctor?"

"Hm?" He grunted, already half asleep, as he rolled over to his side.

"I-If we can't convince my family, and they reject what I want, would you help me find my great grandpa so that I can live with him?"

The question made him freeze.

 _Dios_ , was it really that bad? Was that even possible of happening? Would the boy's family, _really_ reject Miguel simply because the kid adored music so much? He opened and closed his mouth for a few moments, unsure of what to say before, settling on, "He's a hard man to get to, Miguel."

"B-But you said, you were friends with him once,"

Héctor rested the side of his head on the croak of his elbow. "Yeah, _once_. That was a long time ago. We write letters, sure, but I haven't seen him _physically_ in a long time."

The kid was sounding desperate at this point, "But if it _does_ happen, would you?"

_Would he?_

Would he really travel a crossed to world to find Ernesto because the kid's family rejected him? It sounded so ridiculous, so unheard of and dangerous that even uttering such a plan in the presence of anyone would get him a one-way trip to the _loco_ bin. But would he? Would he really do something that outlandish?

"We'll see."

He really was getting way too close to this kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter then last time, but I still had fun with it. 
> 
> I'll be honest, I was thinking about deleting this story all together considering I just didn't think it was all that good and that people weren't interested in it seeing as the Coco fandom has been dulled down since this movie came out in 2017, so the fandom has seen less and less of fanfics and more of art. And if I was an artist with any scrap of talent, I would make this into a comic, instead but since I don't writing is the best thing for me, 
> 
> So I was thinking of deleting this, but I've decided to keep going, and decide later, if it's not what I or people are expecting it to be. Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated down in the comments below and I'll see you guys later.


End file.
